


Positively Affluent

by MundyMorn



Category: Pinky and the Brain
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MundyMorn/pseuds/MundyMorn
Summary: "Snowball, you must help us.""Help you? Help you!? Oh, Brain. That is rich. Positively affluent!"(Brain collapses mid monologue, and Snowball actually listens to his plea during 'Welcome to the Jungle'.)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48





	1. One Is A Genius

**Author's Note:**

> Does the writer have no idea when they'll get the time to continue this? Yes they do.

“You _must_ help us.”

Weak, resigned, pleading, oh so genuine and saccharine. Oh, how the shock melded with indignation, like a bout of sour cream in soup, churning and twisting like so many reeds.

“Help you?” Snowball said it out loud, tasted the sheer audacity on his tongue, and his voice pitched higher, both mocking and entirely incredulous.

He had been happy to set up the scene, speak from the shadows and relish it, Brain had offered no rebuttal, nor had he even scowled! He’d just stared into the dark, more mouse-like than ever with a stare of humiliation, and dare he say it? Fear.

“Help _you_?”

But at the plea, he stalked forward. The mouse didn't move, perhaps too tired, and Snowball was right up in his face and throwing up his arms immediately, “Oh, Brain. That is rich. Positively affluent!”

Ludicrously, Brain seemed to think there existed a chance his begging would work, and he deflates even more. Snowball was surprised by how much it irks him. Bah. Sentimentality! As if he would fall for it.

“We may have been friends once,” He said, before starting on a rant he for the ages. Fury takes hold these days, it is a cathartic way of getting one's point across, and he pays no mind to any arguement Brain offered: he saw him flinch, even cower back, but never once flee or even step away.

The mouse’s scowl returned. CallIng him mad, after trying to plead his case once again. He was being so irritatingly civil, as if their last clash didn’t happen, that it only served to make Snowball angrier.

“Pay attention Brain!”

The mouse was scowling deeper yet, accusatory but silent, “Here, I am the ruler. You may have prevented me from taking the world, but this little shangri _la?_ This is mine.”

Brain’s eyes drooped. A more empathetic person would see it as a sign of fatigue.

To Snowball? It resembled annoyance.

So he decided it was time to wrap up this little chat. “I have a joke for you Brain,” He stated, leisurely. 

Brain remained deadpan.

“Knock, Knock.”

To his amusement, Brain played along. To an outsider, this would look like the mouse was humouring him out of self preservation, but,

In fact, it was something they used to do as children, staring at the shadows cast by cage bars and lab lights, sitting and talking. Just to twist that knife a little.

“Who’s there?”

Snowball can’t help the grin that splits his face. “Brain.”

“...Brain who?”

“Exactly.”

Finger on forehead, he shoves the mouse. It sent him a good few inches back, tripping over his own feet. He hit the floor with a gentle, comical flop.

Time to end this little game. Snowball raised his hand, ready to snap his fingers, call one oaf he’d brainwashed, and have Brain dragged to await his fate. He waited for the mouse to drag himself back upright, so he could look him in the eye when he did it. 

Waiting. What’s taking him so long?

The Hamster loitered there and for the sake of, oh, good sportsmanship or something of that ilk, let him have a few more seconds.

Then he stormed forward,

“Don’t embarrass me,” He muttered, “Oh Bra-in? Gravity a little too harsh for your fragile bones this evening?”

But when he used his heel to nudge the mouse onto his back, he found Brain has gone entirely limp, though his chest rose and fell. His ears are droopy, his lips parted. 

“Oh, how the great mouse falls.” He drawled.

Snowball was now alone.

What to do. Certainly wouldn’t be any fun to do away with him like this.

And that thought struck him rather profoundly, as he drummed his fingers along the matchstick he was holding. (The one he’d hoped to use to light a nice, toasty fire beneath the mouse’s feet.)

Doing away with Brain sounded perfectly delicious in every aspect. To watch him squirm and realize his impending defeat, and pop that ego snuggled inside that chubby head.

And yet, to do so would mean he’d never wrangle that reaction out of his arch nemesis, his former friend, ever again. A world where Brain was not breathing was, in practise, one Snowball wouldn’t be used to. Brain had been a presence in his life (even if they didn’t speak for years) for as long as he could remember. 

Snowball growled, clutching the match in both hands and fuming at the calamity in his wishes.

All the while Brain seemed to be languishing at his feet.

… At any rate, he wasn’t ending this bitter rivalry like this, with the _jungle_ as the victor. He never liked third players.

…

He must be coming to the penultimate. So exhausted he couldn’t even feel the horror and terror anymore, much like those experiencing hypothermia suddenly feeling hot…

Suddenly, there was cold on his lips. Water? He sipped at it, muscles still working frantically, and he hazily wondered if Pinky got a hold of some kind of container. Were they on the raft still? Was the whole, admittedly insane incident with Snowball a fever-dream?

Let it be so. There was a hand on his forehead, a tutting sound. He couldn’t find the strength to open his eyes. 

…

When Brain regained his bearings, his first thought was that the nauseating vertigo was gone. Ergo, he was no longer dehydrated. But the moist air, the scents bombarding his brain told him he was still in the jungle. 

His eyelids were like sandpaper when he opened them.

“I feel like death.” He murmured. Barely a whisper.

“You certainly look it.”

Oh, cruel fate. Brain angled his head and found Snowball standing nearby, but still at a notable distance. Appearing very at ease and leant on that darned matchstick with an acutely self-important expression. Brain must have looked a sight, as the Hamster laughed,

“Oh, come now, that wounds me! You would think I was going to harm you.”

“Isn’t that your ploy? Weren’t you close to _ending it all_ a few moments ago?” Brain was trying to be bold, but his voice wavered under the strain. He sat up, at least, clawing back some shred of composure. The hamster, to his fury, simply chuckled and shook his head, as if watching the antics of a child,

“You've been incapacitated for far more than a _moment._ And _oh,_ I _considered_ it, but where would the thrill be in that? Killing a rodent that was already half-dead?”

Brain didn’t reply. So it was ego, then? Snowball had a very skewed view of what was fair, but maybe even ounce-away-from-roadkill was too much for him.

“Don’t look so irked.” Snowball said, with the air of someone enjoying every second of said annoyance, “I’m only doing what you asked.”

Brain opened his mouth to argue…

And found he had none. Snowball was... _helping_ him. Albeit for a deranged, self-serving, diabolical reason, so he could kill him on more level terms no doubt. Brain wouldn’t lie, an unwanted trickle of unease was reappearing.

Snowball was unhinged. More so than ever before, he could change his mind about this whenever it suited him.

So, Brain mused reluctantly, being snippy and biting back would probably get him killed brainwashed-tourist style. And Pinky…

A snap directly in front of his nose made him jump. “Snowball!” He half-yelled, “Do not do that! It is most unbecoming.”

“You were lost in the sad chaos of your _little mind_ ,” Snowball crooned, jabbing the mouse once in the forehead. (Which didn’t help that headache.) “I know you aren’t a socialite, but I’d hoped you’d at least be able to carry a conversation by now.”

...Brain clasped his head in his hands.

“All right. You’re helping us.” He said, hating himself but darn it all, they were desperate. He had to play this carefully. Snowball was not in his right mind, anything could set him off. Play along, Brain, and don’t be rudimentary. Still, he tried not to sound too defeated.

“Hm-hm. Why don’t you collect whatever wits you call bearings? I have a few things to attend to.” Brain quirked a brow at his former friend, already directing his gaze elsewhere and fiddling with the end of his matchstick-staff. What in heaven's name (pardon the vernacular, concerning a Hamster who definitely didn't belong there) could he be so busy with here?

“Do try to get some rest, dear Brain.”

Off he strode, and it grated Brain to see how completely relaxed he was until -

“Oh, and Brain?”

The hamster had halted. Brain said nothing, keeping himself sitting upright by placing his weight on his hands (he was laid on some uncomfortable...empty match box. Slightly worrisome.)

Snowball hadn’t turned around, but had paused mid-stride. Brain regarded the back of his head silently.

“Don’t try to escape. I’d hate to think you weren’t appreciating my hospitality.”

He did it again. His voice dropped to a low, snarling growl, so unlike his usual charming cadence. Brain scowled. There was something vicious in that creature, he mused as Snowball vanished from sight.

Something vicious indeed.


	2. Not Without Pity

Brain would have liked to pace.

But energy is a resource of which he had very little reserves. It was best to sit still and gradually come to himself. So he did, maneuvering his legs, so they hung over the side of the matchbox (he could smell that trademark ‘matchbook’ scent, like stale gasoline) and pondered.

Pinky ought to be getting along swell, probably chatting to the crazed lunatics Snowball had bewitched. No doubt they were all dehydrated and starving when he found them, which made psychological warfare easy…

That disturbing idea struck him, on that prior point - he’d gotten into their heads by offering help when they were desperate. As ludicrous as it sounded, Brain had to be wary of Snowball’s games. Even as children, Snowball had a way of being persuasive. Back then it wasn’t nefarious.

Brain groaned, covering his eyes with his hands.

“I didn’t think you the wailing type.”

Brain started, but quickly balled his fists and forced his face into a neutral, if reproachful, expression. Snowball had returned - just how long was Brain lost in his thoughts? The hamster was holding something in one hand. A quick squint proved this: It was a cracker, probably swiped from whatever stores those tourists had left. Trust Snowball to snatch the snacks for himself. Brain tried not to stare at the morsel too long and pretended not to have seen it.

But Snowball strode over and, with expert precision, snapped a piece (not half, mind you) and offered it to the disgruntled mouse.  
Brain flexed his inner willpower to keep his hands by his sides, clasping the edge of the matchbox. “Is it poison?”

Snowball’s smug smile curled. How oily. “Do I have to explain the entire ‘If I wanted to kill you, you would already be exhibiting rigor mortis’ routine?”

“No. But I’d say you’d prefer to watch me choke.” Brain muttered. But he took the cracker just so Snowball would stop waving it patronisingly in front of his face. He didn’t eat it, not yet, in fact he hoped Snowball would strut off again.

No such luck. He sat beside Brain (to his great surprise) and broke off a piece to bite down on himself. Brain remained as natural as possible, making himself sit still and refraining from scooting away.

Does he really see me as so little a threat? Brain wondered, but grimaced when he remembered that Pinky was still being circledd by dancing tourists and he could barely stand. And Snowball had always been a good part bigger than him. Still, his mind was still in order!  
Somewhat.

Get a hold of yourself, Brain, you are being contrary.

Absent-minded, he nibbled miserably on the cracker, but thankfully Snowball made no smug commentary on it.

The silence was growing unbearable, so he mumbled, “I will never understand you, so I’m not going to try.”

Snowball took his time chewing and swallowing. “Hmm.” They both faced ahead, not looking at each other, “So I’d imagined. I, however, find it almost exceedingly easy to understand you.”

“I’ve changed.” Brain returned flatly.

“Not as much as you think.” Snowball lifted a finger and waved it slowly. Then, he planted that hand on Brain’s shoulder, all but wrapping his arm around him. Snowball had no qualms about such gestures, he did it with Pinky too. Brain turned his head away to glare at a stool nearby. “That’s your problem, Brain. In order to win, you have to know what your enemy is thinking.”  
What was Snowball thinking?

“I’ll rephrase. I know, to a degree, what your thought process will be, Snowball,” He said, keeping his voice as level even though the anger was making his tail curl, “You know I’m in no position to punch you, and the only reason you’re doing this is because a shallow victory is no victory at all to you.”

And finally, he met Snowball’s eye. It was a nasty look and Brain parried it with a closed-off scowl.

“That’s too bad. And here I thought we were reconciling. You did so unhesitantly beg for my help after all. Why would you do that…” Snowball poked him in the chest, teeth showing when he grinned, “Unless you were appealing to some old attachment?”

Brain’s scowl wavered. He was not intimidated. He was not.

“I never denied that you were my friend.” The words surged up his throat before he could filter them properly.

“Neither did I.” Snowball said, mildly.

“You never meant it.”

Snowball released his shoulder and leaned back.

“What I don’t understand,” Brain said, coming back to his earlier point, “Isn’t so much the logistics.”

“Oh?” Snowball’s brow lifted and never had a syllable sounded more loaded.

“You have a very keen desire to hurt people. You make no lie of it. I’m not talking about a mild cuff over the head or a scathing remark. And that inclining is what gets in the way of your plans, Snowball. You get side-tracked in the thrill of making people, specifically me - miserable.”

Snowball cackled.

It was loud, harsh, and so sudden it silenced Brain instantly, and he realized with a metal back-hand that he’d done exactly what he warned himself not to do: engage in a conversation with Snowball that could lead to pressing the wrong button. The ‘change his mind’ button that guaranteed he and Pinky’s deaths. So much for playing the long game, Brain.

Snowball looked genuinely amused, a hand on his chest, the other balled as he laughed, a well-rehearsed sound that would make most people’s blood curdle. “Oh, Brain, but that’s the entire point. Why play the game if you get no satisfaction? Your schemes always end in failure, and thanks to you, mine have, as well. But I, at least, gained some entertainment from it. Not to mention a company with its rights still owed to me.” (That said as an afterthought, Snowball glancing up to the right and waving a hand.)

Brain carefully didn’t react, but swallowed. A maniac. He was truly a maniac. How did it -  
Oh, he knew. He knew what happened. It involved going first because he was smaller; it involved a machine that malfunctioned, but the question was whether the machine stole away the shreds of conscience and reason or if those dark thoughts had always been incubating in the young hamster’s mind.

Poor Snowball, he’d told Pinky, and he had been, but just how much of it had been the machine, and how much of it was Snowball being a monster?

Ears drooped, Brain averted his gaze again and sighed. Can’t make a retort to that.

…

Brain was acting peculiar.  
Not that Snowball minded, no, it was rather ironic he found the mouse’s state of being so intriguing to probe, much like the very scientists who’d maimed them. Congratulations, Brain, on serving your purpose as a typical white lab mouse!

The mouse kept getting lost in his thoughts and distracted. It seems he’d given him a lot to mull over.

He and Brain skirted the topic of their past many times, but they never had a full-blown, dissected talk about it. Snowball would be lying if he said he was averse to it, while the memories made for good fuel in a battle of wits, certain ones burnt a distaste in him he’d rather not revisit.

As much as he enjoyed Brain and his suffering, some things just irked him.

They were rivals. They wanted the same thing. And while Snowball had been willing to take revenge of the dullards that made up the human race, Brain wanted to ‘reinvent’ things. To ‘fix them’. To make a better world. Just what about this world made the mouse thing it worthy of being saved?

“Do you recall when Pinky took my admittedly badly placed sarcasm literally?” Brain spoke up, after another bout of silence between them (permeated by cracker-nibbling.)

Snowball’s smile returned, eyes hooded, “Like it was yesterday, old friend.”

Brain didn’t comment on the term. “You offered me the position of vice dictator, and after that, surgeon general,” The mouse’s nose wrinkled in distrust, and Snowball held back a snicker at his expense.

“You and I both know you only did that to rub it in,” Brain continues, eyes on the cracker piece in his hand, barely eaten while Snowball had finished his, and was flicking the crumbs off his pink fingers. “And yet…”

“Yet?” Snowball prompted casually, interested surprisingly.

“Theoretically,” Brain stalled “In some alternate universe where I’d say, hit my head on something or had less sense that I do in this life. What would you have done if I said ‘Yes?’”

The hamster blinked.

For the first time in this situation, he was caught off guard.

… He would never have said yes. It had never occured to Snowball that it would. He hadn’t even considered it. Smile gone, Snowball considered in now. Pondered, if you will. He sat back a smidge, frowning.

“Come now, as if you weren’t so prideful.”

“I’m asking you theoretically.” Brain was looking back at him again, frowning as well. They were treading into dangerous grounds, in this little talk. They both had to be aware of that.

But he was not averse to risk. He smiled, “I am a hamster of my word. But you would have had to have known, in this theoretical circumstance, that I would be the one in control.”

“Indeed.”

“Did you consider it then, Brain? In those months you were out in the cold?” Snowball trilled, his mirth only growing when Brain looked away from him and scrunched up in on himself, something he did when a flaw was exposed. “Did you think about crawling back, begging for my aid as you did so now?”

“No.” Brain’s response is flat, “You’d won. I only returned for Pinky. And the World. And even if I had, I’d never let you possess a position of trust. That would be a most dangerous and moronic thing for anyone to do.”

Snowball chuckled inwardly and gave no criticism of that stance.


	3. Aside From Misguided Activists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, that could have gone better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this didn't get much attention here, but it did have a little support on Tumblr, so.

One might be a little more harrowed sitting next to a genetically altered evil hamster with a penchant for trying to kill you. But Brain was reconciling a pattern. Snowball was a Hamster of his word... when it _suited_ him. Reading his moods was a heavily context-based system with many variables. 

He’d offered a surrender, back in that office, when Brain had (admittedly) been out of his league in terms of mechanical suiting. (Ah, but skill over _brute force._ And a certain asset in having a friend to bail you out.) And maybe he would have given it, if only to see Brain captive as he did now.

But once Brain had refused, there had been _no take backs._ Snowball had been trying to _kill_ him. That grin he’d given when the mouse was dangling at the edge of the monument. Brain sought to recall it so he wouldn’t forget what he was dealing with.

Testing the waters, if you will, Brain slid off the matchbox. He could feel Snowball’s beady eyes on him. A mouse has a second nature to noticing when it’s being observed, and Brain disliked being reminded.

Standing was a feat. (No. That is not a pun!)

Frown faltering when he wobbled, Brain’s arms stretched out to give him some balance. He felt a paw grasp his shoulder and nudge him (not too kindly) back upright before he could fall.

Brain made a show of planting his two feet down, hunching his shoulders and taking a step forward, ignoring Snowball’s smug, mocking smile.

“Where’s Pinky?”

“I was wondering whether you would ask,” Snowball was now leaning on one hand as if he had no care in the world. “He’s getting along splendidly with my new minions. I’m surprised he knows so many Dennis Hopper titles.”

“... He was talking about True Romance again, wasn’t he?” 

“Catchfire, actually.”

 _“How did he-_ Nevermind! I demand to see him.”

 _Wrong_ wording Curse his usual flair and assertiveness. Brain stayed still as Snowball’s small black pupils bore into him, dropping his grimy smile altogether.

He drummed his pink fingers along the matchbox. “I don’t think I need to remind you that you _aren’t_ in any position to demand _anything_ , Brain.”

Brain flexed his hands then balled them again, cursing inwardly when he found they were sweating. He needed to turn this situation around,

“How did you get here, anyway?” Brain threw up his arms, “We were taken by some completely misled activists and dropped from a _plane_. Which means the same happened to you, which means you had to have been in a _lab_ somewhere!”

Snowball’s brows flew up, and he blinked: Aha, he’d caught him off guard. Maybe having someone familiar to speak to had... made him less erratic, or at least somewhat more grounded in reality, as he didn’t go off on a rant about how someone must have _sent_ Brain.

But he could see that angry doubt bubbling in the Hamster’s mind again, so he blurted, as all of this thought process was flooding quick and hastily through Brain’s... brain.

“I’ll admit it’s a coincidence I ended up here, but I didn’t intend to find you.”

“...Clearly. I see now that you were in no state to do _anything_ to me. And how quick of you, to figure out I was in a laboratory.”

A pause came between them. Snowball had gotten to his feet too, paws behind his back, and he’d paced some yards closer.

“...Were you apprehended by the scientists?” Brain tried, with both a bit of nerve and careful treading. It stumped him at how shaky, and dangerously uneasy, his own voice sounded. Snowball scowled at him.

“Don’t pretend to be concerned, Brain, it was a minor setback, and I dealt with those dullards easily. But before I could leave, those activists burst in.”

This bout of concern startled Brain. It was one of those emotions that, once it’s gone, you can’t quite re-imagine. Purely situational and at the moment.

(Again, he faced the feelings and instincts of an _actual_ mouse who lives in those fleeting moments, giving each moment full attention.)

The scientist’s inane experiments were something Brain had avoided in modern years by easily forging signatures and messing with schedules, so that under the human’s noses, it left him and Pinky more or less alone during the day. It wouldn’t do to have them know just how well they succeeded.

Snowball, if some scientists with more sense had apprehended him and was surprised, probably didn’t have that back-up.

In layman’s terms, Brain worried that they had hurt him, and it was clashing horrendously with his complete _loathing._

Brain’s paws went to either side of his head again, and he fought the impulse to yank on his ears. Calm down. Calm yourself, Brain. 

“You are floating off into your own head again, Brain,” Snowball called to him blithely.

“I think the dehydration took its toll.” Brain mumbled despairingly. “Or this entire episode is a connection of thirst-induced... delirium.” 

_“Hmhm.”_

“I’m losing it.”

Snowball laughed again, that dreadful sound. Brain wanted to clog his own ears. Instead, he folded his arms and let his eyes narrow, muttering “Oh yes, jeer at the thought of me joining your madness.”

“You’re practically knitting yourself a membership jacket.” Came Snowball’s equally snide comment, his mood veering dangerously back to being irked. Brain felt like he was playing a game of ping pong, trying to keep his own running mouth and bitterness from poking the bear. Look at him, comparing a Hamster to a bear.

(Snowball would maul if he could.)

Pinky would have balanced things out if he were here. Would’ve said something stupendously silly for Brain to occupy himself with. And distracted Snowball. 

Snowball, meanwhile, saw how forlorn Brain suddenly looked (starvation and exhaustion had evidently made his stoic demeanour leak like a punctured plastic baggie.) 

“Missing your friend?” He crooned.

“Stop it.” Brain didn’t bother denying it, but he wanted this game to stop.

“Ever blunt. You were never any fun for battling with words.”

“I’m technical, not theatrical.”

“Now I _know_ that you’re delusional, Brain. I’m not the only one who. How did you put it? ‘Gets side-tracked in the details.’ You made use of superstitions after all…”

“Unorthodox plans call for unorthodox…” Brain shook his head, “I’m not talking about that! I need to see if Pinky is all right.”

Throughout all of this, Brain had been avoiding eye contact. He kept visualising taught strings, or those door-stoppers in the wall a cat paws at so it _twangs_ continuously. That was his thought process, and he didn’t know what he’d do if he snapped. Give into basic instinct? Lose his temper, claw and bite, start yelling? Or collapse down onto the floor and lose himself to nerves like he’d done on the raft?

With his enemy so close by, he could not _afford_ to break down.

So when Snowball pokes him lightly on the small of his back to get his attention, that doesn’t equate. 

Brain leaps what feels like a meter into the air and is horribly aware of how every hair on his body has flown up. The dreadful swoop of the sensation on his spine kicks his heart into action like a swift _whack_ to a vending machine.

In this split-second reaction, he managed to both kick himself, turn, kick off sideways, and catch Snowball in the shin while he was at it. 

Brain came to himself within a second, finding his back was against the matchbook and Snowball was clutching his affronted shin, teeth and gum alike visible while he snarled. Brain blinked several times, quickly,

That had to be a weak hit,

And Snowball was already that affronted?

_Low pain threshold?_

Of course, he’d always been so darn dainty, it had distracted Brain, as all mammals were, by the age-old trick, like a wayward tourist being told to use his coat to make himself bigger, should he come by a Lion. Snowball was bigger, yes, stronger by default, but he was still an animal bred in civilisation. 

Brain’s quick ponder was interrupted when Snowball’s attention landed on him again. Brain snagged the side of the matchbook to propel himself onto his feet. The two of them faced each other, each with risen haunches. 

“How easy it would be to ring your neck.” Snowball remarked, practically sneering. Brain didn’t rise to the bait. But then he forces a smile,

“But perhaps I brought it on myself, _startling_ you.”

**_“You didn’t -”_ **

Purple and red spots slunk over Brain’s vision, glazing over. His ears refused to peak up. He was paying dearly for that burst of movement.

“You’d never talk big if we were on equal footing.” Brain mutters, finding his hand clutched the side of the darn matchbook seemingly of its own accord. But he sensed the tension bleeding out of the air, as Snowball straightened up, morphing from a potential murderer to a smug host all in a smooth second. The hamster cocked his head and smiled, throwing in a condescending shake of the head for the heck of it,

“As if we ever _were_.”

I am so _tired,_ Brain pondered. He couldn’t find a way out of this using his usual methods. Not without Pinky. Snowball expected it.

So.

Theoretically,

He could play this game.

If Snowball wanted to jab at emotional buttons, let the part of the grieved former friend, the reasonable one with stupid hope, come through. Brain had dabbled in _acting_ in his time, played on the shallow sympathies of humans weeping over endangered species. But something about this felt... depraved.

“In between wondering if I’m due to _die_ out in this disenfranchised, defunct cess-pool you call a resort,” Brain began, balling his hands again by his hips and staring forward, for he’d turned so he didn’t face Snowball, “I try to decipher if we’d ever _truly_ been friends.”

Brain did not look at Snowball, for some hidden, never-to-be-admitted part of him feared if he made eye-contact, Snowball would see right through him,

“Do you even _recall_ anything from before?”

“Yes,” Snowball’s reply was far too prompt for Brain’s liking, thus disconcerting. Brain’s lip pulled downward in distaste. Snowball’s tone had become leisurely, but strangely blase and hard to read.

“I recall you were frightened of the sound of _keys_.” Out of the corner of his eye he watched Snowball wander forward, paws behind his back, to perch himself on the matchbox again as if it was a bench in a park. “And you’d cling to the metal bars more often than not.”

“I remember you sorted pellets according to size when you were bored. You slept more than I did.” Brain said, reproachful. Snowball chuckled.

“Always so nervous. I didn’t get much sleep, seeing as you kept me up with your nightmares.”

“You never said it irritated you.”

“I wasn’t. Back _then_.”

Deciding to actually look at the Hamster, Brain found him glancing upward in a mocking rendition of a reminiscing man, “Oh, the dread we felt, the times when the tests were fun but the short-lived relief never battling that dread. Such is the state of the weak and powerless.”

Mid-sentence, Snowball’s mild grin twisted back into that smirk, and his bloodshot eyes met Brain’s again with uncanny intensity. Brain tried to recapture the tired tone he’d addressed Snowball with when he was half-delirious with dehydration... and found it wasn’t as hard to muster up as he’d thought.

(And the need to retort was too strong.) 

“I _tried_ to help you.”

“And that’s your mistake, Brain. Who said I ever _required_ , or _wanted_ , your _help_?” 

...Brain paused a bit too long. “Isn’t that _why_ you held such a grudge? The gene-splicer-”

Wrong thing to bring up.

Snowball was on his feet and striding forward. Brain backed up.

“You don’t _**believe**_ that. You honestly think _that’s_ what changed things? That you didn’t _save_ me, therefore our friendship _dissolved_? _No,_ Brain.” He jabbed him harshly in the chest. Brain almost stumbled and his back hit up again a stool leg, so he had nowhere to go as Snowball loomed over him, “We both evolved and our goals clashed, and _you_ chose to try and save this world in your own delusional idea of _philanthropy._ You pretend you aren’t as power-hungry as I am, but oh, that’s only the _Bare. Minimum_.”

“Snowball-”

“You think you’re _owed_ anything? _You_ relied on me back before that incident, and you have the gall to think you are more capable than I am?”

_“Snowball -!”_

Brain's paws had come up in an ‘take it easy’ gesture, for he was worried Snowball might start clawing. He couldn’t get away from it, it disturbed him. “Snowball _, listen_ to me, you _need_ help.” His voice had dropped low, and quiet, as if they’d be overheard. 

With a ‘bah’ sound, Snowball whirled away from him, perhaps unconsciously aware that if he didn’t, he would end up punching Brain in the face.

“Spare me your pity.”

“It isn’t pity.”

“Then what is it? Pragmatism? Sorrow?”

“...you were my _friend_. That _had_ to mean something.” Brain retorted, pointing a finger at Snowball’s back. 

“Why else would this situation be occurring? Why else would we _be_ here?”

Aside from misguided Animal Rights Activists with helicopters. 

The silence that came after the so loaded Brain almost heard the toting gun. The hamster breathed in, drew himself up, and began fiddling with the end of his matchstick staff,

“You mentioned wanting to speak with _Pinky_ again?” He chimed, offhanded.

...Oh dear.

“I have a splendid idea, Brain.” Still lightly said,

Brain panicked silently.

“In fact, I’ll make it a surprise."

“Snowball.” He began, curtly. 

Without looking back at him, off the hamster went. This time, Brain stormed after him, ignoring the nausea in his head. Sensing he was being followed, Snowball snapped his fingers in quick succession, and in nought a moment Brain saw a hand swoop into his space, and snatch him off the found. He barely managed a ‘gah!’.

“Don’t be difficult while I’m gone, Brain. You always were such a spoil-sport.”

As he left, and Brain batted harmlessly at the human’s hands, the impending feeling that he was running out of time struck him. 

That could’ve gone better.


	4. Microscopic Sponges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brain is not having a breakdown, and Pinky probably isn't going to get a mud facial.

The itchiness of this rope had gotten boring after the first few hours, and Pinky found that the tourists parading around his post (it had been _ their _ post, him and Brain’s, until some time ago he was whisked away,) were on a loop. Another loop other than the one they were dancing to, they kept repeating the same mumbo-jumbo about a  _ Wise One, _ who was clearly a murderous hamster.

Ooh, can’t call somebody wise if they can’t even tell a decent joke. Pinky was sure the ‘chubby’ comment wasn’t meant to be a funny follow up.

Ha! Chubby.

“Well,  _ you’re _ certainly in better spirits than Brain.”

Once more, Pinky fixed a well practised glare onto his features. His muscles had been getting en pointe lately.

En  _ Poit. _

It was hard to keep track of all the people who did nasty things to you over the years, but  _ Snowball _ made it so easy, seeing as everything he _ did _ was so nasty that Pinky didn’t even have to try and recall why he was such a villain. 

Brain would put it much more elaborate terms, maybe even make a spreadsheet about Snowball and his escapades.

But he’d been acting awfully… squiggly. Squishy? Pinky wasn’t sure. He’d been all floppy and trippy like a play-dough mouse. Brain losing his composure wasn’t anything new, but Pinky couldn’t say it was the same…

A cough brought him out of his inner pondering. Or a 'ahem.'

Snowball was standing close by, ignoring the bowing tourists and their floppy leaf hats. That they had  _ not  _ woven properly.

“I think even _ you  _ know that Brain doesn’t drink, Snowball,” he countered. They didn’t even have a _ decanter  _ back at home. “And you seem to have left him back in your throne...chair...stool room.”

“He’s nursing his sorrows.” Snowball said, in that awful not-nice but  _ sort of _ nice way. It made Pinky’s fur prickle unpleasantly. “I suppose I should tell you we’re under a bit of a truce for now. Though I’ve put a time limit on it.”

Pinky glanced suspiciously overhead and found nothing hovering over them. But he had been doing some thinking. Usually, he didn’t speak up about it, but now felt like a Certain Time. Snowball was going to do one of his long, long monologues and poke fun at every little spot on their bodies, like a mosquito. But Pinky wanted to start  _ his  _ bitey monologue first,

“Brain said that you two were as close as mothers -  _ brothers _ ,” He corrects swiftly, when Snowball’s wrinkly old brows flew up in reproach at the misquote, “And you like to make all your plans shiny with big expensive cars and amusement parks and  _ bumper boats _ , but you don’t know what I know.”

“Oh sorrow, I’m not aware of every abstract correlation losing its way in your skull.” Snowball sneered, but while this tone of voice would dig under Brain’s skin like a splinter, it bounced cleanly off Pinky’s like a glorious light show.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I know that you  _ don’t _ know?”

“I wouldn’t waste my breath.”

“Poit, you probably don’t have mints out here.”

“What do you - oh,  _ nevermind _ . You’re as grating as you were the last time Brain wasn’t there to cling to like a limpet.”

The hamster inhaled, placed his match staff in both hands, but stretched out his fingers, reeling his temper so swiftly Pinky could almost imagine it going like a Yo-Yo. 

… Pinky’s brow sank just a little down his face.

Match staff.

_ Matches. _

Matches set things on fire…

Like the survivalist Tv Shows he always loved to watch.

“Fine, then. Enlighten me. I might even tell Brain what half-brained knowledge you had to share, seeing as you’re the one keeping him alive.” Snowball had still been talking while Pinky’s thoughts wandered. Pinky blinked slowly,

“Oh, that? Oh, I almost forgot,” (He didn’t see the look of outrage and frustration leap across the hamster’s face) “But I still know it: Even though you took over Gumby’s company and wore a fez, Brain is  _ still _ going to take over the world before you.”

This said so nonchalantly and matter-of-fact that it didn’t appear Snowball understood right a way. His brow lifted, and he stared Pinky down.

Pinky was almost beginning to worry. He stared back, blinking expectantly. Oh dear. Had to hit the off switch?

“You seem so sure, it’s almost p _ ainful  _ to inform you otherwise, like telling a bum at a gas station that his fifth scratchcard is another failure.” Snowball sighed and shook his head. Why did he always act like everyone else was a small child? Pinky likened it to watching an evil Mr Rogers. Which was not pleasant.

“Just like you and Brain’s plans,” Pinky chuckled to himself, “Brain almost took over the world by rigging prices on gas stations once.”

Snowball rubbed his temple.

“I’ll  _ withhold  _ my surprise.”

“I hope you washed your hands first.”

_ “... Moving forward _ . I now see that trying to turn you two against each other is a fool’s errand,” Snowball swished his cape away from his elbow, so he could wave his hand from side to side while he spoke, “Seeing as he’s too much of a sentimental dullard and you... well, hm, might as well put you in the same category. You certainly proved to me that your relationship is  _ life-altering _ strong.”

Snowball did that thing.

That thing with his eyes where he looked at you and your insides flip. Pinky found he couldn’t break the stare, no matter how uneasy he suddenly felt.

Maybe this is what Brain felt.

“It’s going to such a  _ shame _ . I’d love to make a big show of it, but if I presented Brain with my plan, he’d come up with a way to sabotage me, and won’t disappoint. So it’s best to do so while he has no bearings. No theatrics.”

“You won’t ever send Brain to the great mouse laboratory in the sky.” Pinky declared. Because villain monologues always rounded back to that, even if you didn’t get a lick of what their big words meant. Snowball grinned, bearing those blocky, straight teeth.

“Don’t be dense, Pinky. Killing  _ Brain _ would take all the fun out of life. But why don’t you  _ ponder  _ on that while I go check on him?”

Pinky glared back.

“Well,  _ your _ headband looks tacky.” He retorted. “And purple isn’t your color.”

Snowball sighed, deeply.

“You really suck all the joy out of these capers, don’t you?”

“Your cape is just as bad.” Pinky almost sounded like he knew what he was doing. Almost. In fact if he was three, he could have folded his arms to add to the point.

_ Poit. _

Snowball strode a little way to the right. Behind him, spanning across the abandoned club was a waterside ( _ Troz _ , he’d have to badger Brain into going on it later,) and what looked like one of those nifty mud jacuzzis.

“Tell me, Pinky, have you happened upon quicksand before?”

Pinky inhaled dramatically. “Magnito’s son?!”

_ “No _ , Pinky.” Snowball said, but with more patience than he’d shown during their entire conversation, “Since Brain asked for a truce, I plan on making good on that hospitality. How do you feel about mud facials?”

...

Brain was _ not  _ having a meltdown.

Perhaps if he iterated that enough, a placebo effect would make his body believe it. He always hated Snowball’s metaphors and subtly jabs, but there was nothing subtle around his intentions now. Pinky was in danger, and Brain had little time. Snowball wouldn’t wait on him to think up a counter-scheme.

He had to pray his scattered instincts and luck itself would see fit to save their hides.

Brain stared at his hands.

Now, more than ever, an old memory was surfacing, of a cold but safe can, of the smell of spring grass to counter the strange haze of jungle leaves. His inner commentary, strangely detached from his body’s shaking and beating heart, quietly noted how the wild probably dug them out.

These memories were probably only blurs. He doubted any experience he had as a child in the wild, with his parents, could help.

His parents, who survived a death-filled world in their infancy, somehow beat odds that seemed impossible to not only grow up, but have offspring of their own.

“I’d never given it thought.” He said to no one. His ears were so low down his back they covered his shoulders.

_ Oh my beautiful world, you could not conquer me. _

Maybe there was something in him from his parents, to escape a cat’s jaws and whatnot. Brain clenched his fist.

Yes.

In a month or so he’d look back and this would be nothing more than a number on a tally of times he failed, almost died, but then walked away with the upcoming night before him.

Work with what you have, Brain.

“Let’s see… I am in a cage.” Probably used by poachers to gather endangered wildlife and dumped in the jungle for these minions of Snowball’s to find. He had little means to get out, but the one thing he could count on was that the demonic hamster would send a goon to fetch him. Humans were always fallible. He wouldn’t be able to bribe them, not with Snowball’s brainwashing so (he hated to admit it)  _ effective. _

And could he assume Pinky was where he’d last seen him? No, Snowball may move him… he needed a plan that Pinky could catch on to, from afar. Snowball would have them in the same vicinity again for whatever he was planning.

And that, he said to his non-existent audience in his mind, is where the window of opportunity would reveal it’s glorious shine, and Snowball’s plan would hopefully react to it like an unfortunate bird on glass.

...

Snowball never accounted for Pinky more than a pawn, and in fact he was the one who rewired the robot…

That thought gave Brain paused.

…  _ Pinky _ had defeated Snowball.

Not entirely, his ego argued curtly. Brain had shown up with the mechanized suit and took the fight to the dratted hamster _.  _ And for all his show, his new technology that he’d  _ bought _ rather than  _ built _ , and so what if his shortcuts were more profitable in the short term, Brain’s technology had foundation, he could use that suit a hundred times! And it was in storage while Snowball’s was ashes at the bottom of Mount Rushmore _. Ha. _

….That Brain had almost fallen from.

He face-palmed.

Is this some old Greek sonnet, where he, the wayward protagonist, must come to know of his own shortcomings, and learn some lessons? Consider it learned! Pinky did not have to die for it.

And his composure slipped a little. Brain inhaled.

Pinky was Pinky. He was incapable of dying. And Snowball was just another mortal rodent. There had to be a gap in his logic, a small opening Brain could take advantage of.

_ Creak. _

The cage door opened. 

“Spare your  _ hand _ , brainwashed fie -”

The noise that Brain made him the careless human grabbed him was more like a wet sponge being stepped on. And only Brain’s head protruded from his grasp.

“I said  _ without _ killing him.” Snowball’s derisive voice came from nearby, but Brain couldn’t pinpoint it.

_ Can hardly breathe - _

_ No speaking can’t trick the human - _

_ Alternative method needed - _

_ Damn hamster, tell him to stop suffocating me - _

Well, his head is free. Brain braced himself with what little wits he had left. And bit down on the human’s hand with all his might.

“Ow!”

Physical pain overtakes the mind’s conditioning. He would make a note of this. Later.

The world blurred as Brain was not only dropped, but thrown, the reflexive jerk of the human tourist’s arm enough to send him spiralling through the air.

He hit something that didn’t break his neck and his paws snagged and dug into fabric. He’d slid down it a tad like a cat on curtains before he half-realized: He’d hit the folds of the table sheets, in a spot between the table legs. A perfect thing to break the momentum. 

“You  _ fool _ ! I said  _ stop  _ him!”

Snowball was too far away to get to him. Brain loosened his hold, fighting the urge to cling with all his might, and let himself slide down the little slope on the cloth to the floor. He saw the human tourist coming at him. But in what universe has anybody lunged at a mouse and landed a hit?

Brain scampered, ducking under the cloth to the dark interior of the table’s underside. The lit objects outside projected onto the sheet like shadow puppets.

Again, he thought of Pinky making figures with his hands over the projector light back in the lab.

The human, instead of ripping off the entire tablecloth like a sensible person, ducked his head under just as Brain reached halfway. It was a buffet table. Those things could go on for a while.

Another arm burst from outside the cover, missing Brain by a hair. Snowball must have set another one of goons on him. Brain leaped over the groping hand. 

Brain ran to the other side, forgoing running all the way to the table’s end. He struggled under the cloth himself and sprinted toward the exit.

“Go ahead and  _ flee! _ ”

Pay him no mind, pay mind no mind -

_ “Just what plan do you have to get Pinky out of here?” _

Brain skidded. Outside, even now, he could see more of Snowball’s goons. And stopping for just a second had allowed the two inside the ‘throne room’ to catch up, standing on either side. Brain clenched his fists and turned to face Snowball, forcing his expression into a stiff glower.

Snowball’s fur was furled again, the only crack in his own composure. But as he approached Brain, he placed the match on one shoulder like a bat.

“You’re more athletic than that paunch of yours lets on.”

_ I hate you so much. _

“Do you  _ want _ me to make a comment about your chipmunk cheeks?”

“Never one for wit.”

“... I hate you.” Maybe that was childish, but Brain wasn’t in the mood to care. Snowball shrugged mildly. But Brain could tell he was nearing giddy levels of anticipation. Just what terrible things had he concocted?

“Since you’ve turned down my escort,” Snowball approached and Brain practically growled at him, but that didn’t stop him coming to Brain’s side - and having the gall to nudge him with that darn match. “Why don’t you follow me  _ yourself _ ? Can’t keep your cohort waiting.”

Brain grounded his teeth,

“Lead the  _ way _ .”


End file.
